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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580631">Drunk Brownies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sajastar/pseuds/sajastar'>sajastar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Venom (Movie 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baking, Brownies, Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, Venom's POV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:09:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sajastar/pseuds/sajastar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Venom doesn't like it when Eddie gets drunk, but if brownies are the result, it might be worth the nuisance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Brock &amp; Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Marvel Universe</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drunk Brownies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Bakageta for betaing!<br/>They/them pronouns for Venom.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Venom hated it when Eddie got drunk. The way it reduced the crackling electricity of their nervous system to sparks. The way it turned their hot core tepid. The way it made their synapses taste off and turned their blood acrid with poison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mostly, Eddie was considerate of this, even if he smiled and shook their head at Venom's fretting. But then there were times when Eddie pulled out phrases like "long day" and "just want to relax." Those days, he tasted wrong even before he started drinking, synapses thick with stress and exhaustion, and Venom would hum unhappily but they would let it happen, even though they knew it would only lead to--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Brownies!" Eddie declared as he threw open the door to their apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, they hadn't expected it to lead to that. </span>
  <b>We do not have any brownies, Eddie, </b>
  <span>Venom reminded him patiently, shutting the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y' don' just </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> brownies," Eddie scoffed. He beelined for the kitchen, shoes and jacket still on and keys still in hand. "You make 'em."</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Eddie, brownies come from stores, </b>
  <span>Venom tried to reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pff. You can make 'em at home. Y’ jus’ need confidence." Eddie pulled a bag of flour out of the cabinet and slammed it onto the counter with a little too much enthusiasm. Flour fountained out of the top and fluttered down like snow. "An’ an oven. Tried t’ use a microwave in college. It wasn' great."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chocolate was probably the only thing that could distract Venom from their concern. </span>
  <b>We can have free brownies whenever?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>free,</span>
  </em>
  <span> free. Gotta buy cocoa an’ stuff. Shit, d’ we have cocoa?” Eddie started digging through the pantry, stopped, and opened the upper cabinet to retrieve a bowl. He turned to see the pantry left open and stared at it blankly for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>You were looking for cocoa, Eddie. It is on the second shelf.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grabbed the cocoa. “But anyway, yeah, we c’n make brownies. It's jus' that bakin’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimidating</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Why?</b>
  <span> Venom couldn't see what there was about baking to fear. Except maybe the oven, but Eddie seemed perfectly comfortable with the open flame on the gas stove, so Venom couldn't imagine him fearing that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"B’cause it's complicated." Eddie pulled out the cocoa and started searching the cabinets for other ingredients, apparently unbothered by his sober self's fears. "I always mess it up. Like I burn it. Or I just keep bakin’ and bakin’ but it won't turn solid. An’ then I eat it with a spoon, like chocolate soup. Lucky I haven’t gotten salmonella,” he mused, piling brown sugar, white sugar, and baking powder on the counter alongside the flour and cocoa. “Guess ‘s not a problem now though. We c’n eat raw batter all we want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom felt that Eddie was losing the thread a bit. </span>
  <b>If it is so complicated, maybe it is better done sober.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie scoffed. "Y' gotta make brownies drunk. Tha's jus' how it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He fetched the egg carton from the fridge and cracked two eggs into the bowl, still grumbling to himself. “I'm not gonna bake brownies </span>
  <em>
    <span>sober</span>
  </em>
  <span>. ‘m not a grandma." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom wasn’t sure how baking could be intimidating if it was habitually done by elders, but they let it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulled up a recipe on his phone and scanned the ingredients. “Butter ‘n’ vanilla. Knew I forgot something.” He plopped a stick of butter into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, setting the timer to ten minutes. Then he stood and watched the microwave as the bowl, which he’d placed a bit off-center, completed a slow orbit around the inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>I thought we were not supposed to use the microwave.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowned. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You said microwave brownies are bad.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooohhhh.” The exclamation extended much longer than the situation called for. “It’s jus’ the butter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>For the brownies,</b>
  <span> Venom confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. ‘s just-- Don’ worry ‘bout it. I got this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>If you are sure.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure.” Venom wondered why drunk Eddie felt the need to emphasize everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The butter started to pop and Eddie rescued it from the microwave with nine minutes and twenty seconds left on the clock. The core of the stick of butter was still unmelted. “Mm. I pro’ly shoulda cut this up firs’.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, it’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom was becoming increasingly skeptical of this whole enterprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N’kay, time for cocoa.” Eddie grabbed a cup measure and reached for the white plastic jar on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>That is not cocoa, Eddie.</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at it. “Oh. Is that bakin’ powder? It’s bakin’ powder.” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yes, it is.</b>
  <span> Venom could pick up Eddie’s words both as thoughts and as actual sound, so they had no doubt what he’d meant to say, but it really sounded like he’d said “bacon powder,” and now they wanted bacon. A thought occurred to them. </span>
  <b>If we make our own brownies, we can make them however we want.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. I’s not like cookin’. You gotta get e’rything </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. ‘t’s why I’m no good at it. Cooking’s art, but bakin’ is chemistry,'' Eddie quoted. He stopped measuring sugar and stared pensively at the countertop for a second. “Who told me that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>Elvis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Not Elvis?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name was’n Elvis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Whose name?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was in college. I mean, he was my roommate in college.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>And he was not Elvis.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed like a dead end, so Venom returned to their previous train of thought. </span>
  <b>Is it possible to make bacon brownies?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah, we can do that! We c’n just put it on top like walnuts. Y’know, like sometimes they put walnuts on brownies,” Eddie explained as he measured out the cocoa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom stole a bit of cocoa for themself and Eddie smiled fondly. “Only you’d eat raw cocoa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>What next? </b>
  <span>They surveyed the ingredients. </span>
  <b>The brown sugar?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie waved the idea away, even though he’d been the one to set out the brown sugar. “Y’ don’ put brown sugar in brownies. It goes in chocolate chip cookies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You know how to make chocolate chip cookies?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how t’make anything if I got a recipe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>You have been holding out on me, </b>
  <span>Venom accused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta be drunk,” Eddie complained. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>let me be drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom made up their mind to test that theory tomorrow, but they didn’t argue for the moment, just reached out a tendril and put the brown sugar back in the pantry while Eddie stirred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A’right. Brownies ‘re ready. Time f’r a pan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What about the flour?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I added the flour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You did not.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stared at the paper bag of flour for a moment. “Oh shit, I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I know.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. You think tha’s why my brownies were always so wet? ‘Cause I forget the flour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Because you are drunk, </b>
  <span>Venom agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Eddie said, nonplussed. “Well anyway, that’s one mystery solved.” He measured flour into the bowl and beat it again. “Oh, Ezra!” Venom waited for the explanation. “M’ roommate in college who tried to teach me bakin’. His name wasn’ Elvis. It was Ezra.” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Another mystery solved, </b>
  <span>Venom said dryly. Their body doubled over with Eddie’s laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>What?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t answer, just grabbed the edge of the counter for support as tears rolled down their face. He was still laughing, but this seemed extreme. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Eddie?</b>
  <span> Venom started to go over the blood vessels of the brain, not sure what they were looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sucked in a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” They were still bent over. “Oh my God, that was so funny. You were just like, so deadpan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Are you sure you are okay?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Eddie stood up straight and took a few slow breaths. “Okay, okay, we need a pan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom was not looking forward to this part. </span>
  <b>Maybe we can bake them in the bowl,</b>
  <span> they suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook their head. “Mm-mm. ‘s gotta be metal. The bowl’ll melt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom borrowed their lungs to sigh dramatically. </span>
  <b>If you are sure.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’m gonna go for it.” Eddie squeezed their eyes shut and opened the lower cabinet. As always, all the pans clattered to the floor, ringing. The noise wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t really high-pitched enough to do damage. Maybe they were both overplaying it a little to be silly. Just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie selected a square pan and stacked the rest back in the cabinet, shaking their head as though he could dislodge the echoes. He set the pan on the counter and went to tip the batter into it. Venom reached out a tendril and held the bowl still. </span>
  <b>The recipe says a prepared pan. Is this pan prepared?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I should prob’ly do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yes, you should do that.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’</span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom was taken aback. </span>
  <b>I do not know how to prepare a pan. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’s fine; I’ll show ya.” Eddie took a stick of butter out of the fridge and cut a piece off. “Here, take this and jus’ rub it ‘round in there,” he said, demonstrating. Venom extended a tendril, plucked the pat of butter from their fingers and spread it around the pan. “Make sure you get the corners good.” Venom did. “See? Easy. That’s prob’ly enough, but I’m gonna flour it too, jus’ t’ be safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was still quite a bit of butter left on Venom’s tendril. No point letting it go to waste: they folded the tendril in on itself to consume the butter. Eddie was smiling at them again. They weren’t sure why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you havin’ fun?” Eddie asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yes,</b>
  <span> Venom decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘kay. I couldn’ tell.” Eddie started sprinkling flour around the inside of the pan, tapping the sides to spread it evenly. “I know you don’ like it when I drink. But 't’s not like I’m bad when I’m drunk, right? Like we’re okay? It’s just the taste an’ stuff that bothers you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Of course. </b>
  <span>Venom wasn’t actually sure they liked Eddie drunk--they didn’t like how he spoke vaguely and acted impulsively and left them feeling like they were always a few steps behind. They didn’t like worrying about him. But if it helped him relax on nights when--on nights like these, then they could put up with it for a few hours. </span>
  <b>I am glad you are happy. And I am glad we are making bacon brownies.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded their head. Venom could feel his relief linger as he poured the brownie batter into the pan, scraped out the bowl as much as he could with a spoon, and turned to the oven. “Oh crap. The oven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What? Eddie?</b>
  <span> Venom was always alert for any hint of malfunction from the oven. They maintained that it was stupid to keep a known source of fire in their home, especially when all it did was make things taste bad, but Eddie insisted it was necessary, that it would be more dangerous to try and remove it, and that their landlord wouldn’t be happy if they did. Venom had suggested they eat the landlord. It wasn’t as if Eddie liked the man, yet he, unfathomably, refused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot to preheat it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Oh. Does it matter?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>matters with baking. ‘t’s like I told you, it’s all chemistry.” Eddie scowled at the oven like it had been designed to trouble him specifically.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What do we do now?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“We preheat the oven,” Eddie said, setting it to three-fifty, “‘n’ then we wait like, ten minutes. It’ll beep. You won’ like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Okay. We should lie down while we wait.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s only like ten o’clock,” Eddie protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You are swaying. Either we lie down or I am standing for us.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. Fine.” Eddie walked over to the couch and studied it.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>give </span>
  </em>
  <span>me a sec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I am not going to let us fall, Eddie</b>
  <b>.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say we were gonna fall. We’re just gonna…” He gripped the back of the couch and used it to steady himself as he sat down slowly. “See, it was fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yes, it seemed fine.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was already lying down. “‘s better ‘n you could do. You’d hafta use tendrils to balance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I almost did anyway,</b>
  <span> Venom retorted. They stretched a tendril across the room to the bed and dragged the blanket off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing?” Eddie muttered, pressing their face into the couch cushions.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Getting the blanket. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ’m not gonna sleep.” He contradicted himself by putting an arm over their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Okay, </b>
  <span>Venom said, sensing it was better not to argue, but they pulled the blanket over them anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still gotta get the brownies,” Eddie insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What do we need to do with the brownies?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“In like, five minutes we’re gonna put the pan in the oven.” They hadn’t added bacon, but Venom wasn’t worrying about that at this point. “An’ ‘en we’re gonna set the timer…”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>How long will we set the timer for? </b>
  <span>Venom prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twen’y t’ thirty minutes,” Eddie mumbled. “Oh man, my head’s spinnin’ a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Venom quietly suppressed the nerves from their inner ear. “Thanks,” Eddie said. “You’re great, y’know that? I’m so lucky to have you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venom felt warm despite their low core temperature. It was probably because of the blanket. Compliments couldn’t make you warm; that was ridiculous. They were just words.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You cannot set a timer for a range of time,</b>
  <span> Venom pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll set it for twenty. An’ ‘en we’ll put a toothpick--no wait, don’t ‘ave toothpicks. We’ll put a fork in it. I think that’ll work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What will that do?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why d’you got so many </span>
  <em>
    <span>questions?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re gonna see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I want to learn how to bake.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed. “Okay. Wha’ was I sayin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>The fork.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, the fork. You stab it in the middle an’ if it’s got brownie batter on it when you pull it out it’s ‘cause the middle is still batter. But if it’s clean or it’s just got some crumbs then it’s cooked and you can take it outta the oven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What do you do if it is wet?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bake it s’m more. Thirty minutes, max. But even after thirty minutes it’s still gonna be wet. It always is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>You did use flour this time, though.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm.” Eddie pulled the blanket over their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there on the couch in silence for a bit. Venom spread out through their body, feeling the slowing pulse of their heart, the muffled flicker of their nerves, the shallow movement of their lungs. Even through the haze of alcohol, it was always comforting to feel Eddie drift off to sleep. They stifled most of the sensory nerves and when the oven beeped, Venom pulled their body to their feet and staggered into the kitchen to follow Eddie’s directions as he slept on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the brownies were cooling on top of the stove, Venom loosened their hold on the senses, letting the signals of ambient noise and light-through-eyelids filter into Eddie’s brain again. He blinked awake to find himself standing in the kitchen in front of a pan of brownies, with Venom’s face manifested in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>“I finished the brownies.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. They look good. Why’s ‘ere a hole in the middle?” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>“I performed the fork test too aggresively.” </b>
  <span>They offered him a piece, topped with a slice of raw bacon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fell asleep. ’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“You need sleep. I considered letting you sleep until morning, but I thought you might want a warm brownie more.” </b>
  <span>Besides, they couldn’t imagine just leaving the brownies in the kitchen to get cold. Or eating the first piece alone. They had made the brownies together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Eddie took the proffered brownie and Venom cut a second piece for themself. Normally they would have just dug in, Venom tearing up chunks with eager tendrils and Eddie going at it slowly but steadily with a spoon--but this was their own handiwork, and it was special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget the bacon,” Eddie said, peeling a slice out of the package and draping it over Venom’s brownie.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“Thank you.”</b>
  <span> Venom was getting better at politeness. There had been a time when humans’ arbitrary little rituals of non-aggression seemed so pointless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie said “You’re very welcome,” and cheersed his brownie against Venom’s and that was the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took their bites together. “So wha’d’you think?” Eddie asked through a full mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“Delicious. You are very skilled.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s pro’ly you, ‘f I’m bein’ honest. These are </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>better than normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“I am sure using all the ingredients in the correct proportions helped,” </b>
  <span>Venom teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grinned. “Fuck off.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So fun fact, this was inspired by the true story of me and my brother getting drunk on rum and cherry juice during quarantine and making brownies. I slurringly informed my brother halfway through making the brownies that I was going to make this a story and proceeded to stop and take notes on our behavior every few minutes, much to his bemusement.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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